


Thousand Bullets

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [64]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Bullet to the back, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nick Stokes Whump, Temporary Paralyzation, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Nick takes a bullet so Greg doesn't have to.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [64]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257824
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Thousand Bullets

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by anon on tumblr, and I swear I'll write the conclusion to this someday!

The wild west had extended its reach to the city of sin itself, and Nick and Greg were caught in the eye of the storm. Two skyscrapers bridged by laser beams in the night sky, a tangled web of lies and deceit in two separate companies who took their competitive drama to an extreme, at first in jest, with paint balls. 

And then, in deadly intent, with bullets. 

The building was supposed to be cleared. 

A suspect was even already in custody. 

But Nick goes from day dreaming about who he wanted Mary to marry on his favorite daytime soap opera to making a decision in the very split of a fatal second.

It all begins with Nick coming off of the elevator to meet Greg, who had waved him over from the other building, because “a phone call really won’t do this justice, dude! I just cracked the case!” He sees Greg in the office, holding trembling hands up in the air, his weapon resting in the holster on his hip, his radio on the cubicle desk behind him.

Defenseless. 

His eyes flicker to Nick, who then draws his weapon, but the threats spoken by a man who is _definitely not Greg_ tell him he’s too late, and his gun clatters to the floor. A different action is required.

He can’t see the target of his own discarded gun, anyway.

The discharge of the weapon isn’t as loud as the whizzing of the bullet that he races against. He thinks back to his days playing football, tackling the player on the opposing team before he catches the ball, it’s the same concept, though instead of his fellow teammates catching the ball, his body catches it, right in his back. 

Right into his spine. 

“I-I’m sorry!” An echo, that reverberates in the air, two voices melted together. A desperate, tearful whisper of a woman who thought there was no other way, and the frightened words of regret from a man who quickly realizes what he just did, and _won’t stop apologizing._

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, i’m sorry!” 

“Hel…Help. Just….get help…” Nick gurgles as his eyes flutter upwards, daring to roll back into his head, but a few blinks re-calibrates them, but everything is blurry, he’s too focused on reigning in his hyperventilating breath. 

He hears the clatter of the gun onto the ground, a door slamming, footsteps running. 

Help is _definitely_ not coming.

The blurs of his vision swirl down into the droplets of water that sting even more than the bullet in his back. He’s lying face down, the tears dropping onto the soft yet bony surface his nose is plastered against. The surface is soft underneath meshed fabric, as the blur fades he can recognize the shape of the badge, can see the sewn on letters, “LVPD CSI.” 

“Guh-Greg,” Nick chokes out. He tries to move his hand to the man’s face, tries to push himself off of Greg’s body, but he can’t move, he can’t even _feel_ his hands, even though his eyes drift to look at the hand splayed next to Greg’s shoulder. He tries to concentrate on flexing his fingers, but there’s no movement. Either he’s in a paralyzing shock or a more…permanent…

His breathing slows to a simple shudder, and he tries once again to call on Greg.

“Greg!” he croaks out, he knows Greg’s alive, he can feel his chest rise and fall, can feel the soft, slow thumping of his heart against his cheek. 

His internal clock, seconds ticked down by the beat of Greg’s heart, every breath he takes, tells him it’s five minutes before Greg wakens with a pained groan. 

“Nick?” Greg moans as he lifts his head. Nick strains his eyes upwards, his eyebrows furrow beneath the crease in his forehead. Greg’s lips are quivering, but other than that, he seems okay. 

“Yeah.”

“You’re, uh, you’re on top of me.”

“I kn-know…” Nick stammers as he feels Greg’s heart quicken.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah…got, uh, got shot.”

Nick nervously licks his lips as Greg writhes beneath him, he can feel his arms wave around loosely in panic, but his fingers hesitantly touch Nick’s body to further examine the bullet wound.

“This looks bad,” Greg blurts out in a dazed voice.

“Yeah, no shit, Greg!” Nick barks out, but then bits his lip as he realizes that Greg’s eyes aren’t looking directly at him, that his words are slurring, and he remembers the desk that was was behind Greg, remembers that his protective take down wasn’t all that smooth. He pushed Greg and he fell backwards, but not before hitting the back of his head on the desk and sliding onto the floor. 

“I-I’m sorry…” Nick sniffles. “Just that…that…I can’t feel anything, G. I ca-can’t move.” 

“You’re scaring me, Nick,” Greg grunts as he shifts his weight underneath the man, though he doesn’t want to fully sit up, risk shifting Nick too much and cause the bullet to move, further worsening Nick’s condition. He’s pale enough as it is, Greg’s heart rate increases as he realizes that Nick’s losing blood, that his body temperature is lowering with alarming fashion so that Greg feels like a bleeding block of ice is crushing his ribs instead of his partner. 

“I’m gonna be a vegetable forever,” Nick whispers in a realization of the horror that he may never walk again, also paired with the increasing stress of feeling Greg’s rapid heart. He envisions himself being wheeled around, sentenced to eternal desk duty in the lab, or worse, stuck in a hospital bed, forever, while his friends and family continue on with their lives…

And his comes to a screeching halt.

Then again, if his safety, his life, his _body_ was sacrificed in order to save Greg Sanders, he would take a thousand bullets to his back. 

“Don’t say that. Why did you…why did you even do that anyway? That was so fuckin’ stupid of you!” 

“Didn’t have a choice,” Nick gulps with a hollow chuckle, licks away the tear that gets caught in the corner of his lips. “Either I took that bullet or you did.”

“Or you could have called for help!” Greg hisses. “Speaking of which…”

Greg digs a hand into his pocket, pulls out his cell phone. He dials 911 as Nick tries to focus on his breathing, instead of the inflections of Greg’s pained voice as he panics, forgets simple but important details, but gets the biggest one across, their location. 

“Help wouldn’t have done any good,” Nick sighs after a shuddering breath once Greg’s phone jumps out of his trembling fingers, covered in Nick’s blood. “That…that asshole was gonna shoot you, I could hear it in his voice, in his words.”

“And how’d you know that?” Greg huffs a bit angrily as he tries to spin himself around under Nick, to get a better look at the bullet embedded in his back. Unbeknownst to Nick, it’s not directly in his spine.

“I’ve heard that…tha' desperation buh-before…This guy was..outta options, man. I wouldn’t have…enough time to…”

“Time to what?” Greg asks as Nick’s voice drifts off. His voice is somehow louder, bouncing around his eardrums like a pinball. Greg’s heart still thumps against the wall of his rib cage, but Nick’s cheek tingles as the sensation starts to get more distant.

Nick’s breath is getting deeper, slower, his eyes are once again fluttering, now _he’s_ not looking at Greg, but counting the black specks on the ceiling tiles that expand, and shrink, expand and shrink, and multiply and swirl, and melt and merge until the whole ceiling becomes black, and Greg’s voice fades out and he’s left in a sea of darkness. 

And he can no longer feel Greg’s heartbeat. 


End file.
